


sweet on you

by tealseal



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Current Manga Spoilers, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Time Skip, ft. lots of chocolate (for obvious reasons), this is pretty domestic ngl, with just a hint of crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25928857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealseal/pseuds/tealseal
Summary: ushijima wakatoshi's definitive guide to the best chocolatier inparisthe world.
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 152





	sweet on you

**Author's Note:**

> for binkin! my best and only beta reader! may this atone for my grievous crimes.

"Wakatoooooshiiiiii!" 

Satori sounds like a petulant child, and Wakatoshi pretends that he does not find it especially endearing. 

He's on the couch in Satori's Paris apartment, where he was banished several minutes prior by his obviously overexcited partner. 

Wakatoshi knows that Satori was trying to conceal his anticipation, for some reason, and so he does not say anything. It is likely that Satori is planning some kind of surprise, and Wakatoshi isn't about to ruin it. That would make him a very poor excuse of a boyfriend. And, personally, he wants to enjoy the way Satori will smile—small and secret when he thinks Wakatoshi isn't paying attention. 

"Wakatoshi!" Satori calls again. "Toshitoshitoshi! You can come in now! Hey, Wakatoshi, are you listening to me?" 

He pokes his head around the doorway, no doubt preparing to spew forth more adorably haphazard variants on Wakatoshi's name. 

"I apologize, Satori," says Wakatoshi, rising to his feet respectfully. This is not his house, after all, and he reminds himself that a good boyfriend would maintain the best social etiquette. 

Satori laughs. "You're thinking about being polite, aren't you, 'Toshi?" 

Wakatoshi frowns. "How did you know that?" 

"I'm psychic." 

"Are you really? I was unaware of this. I apologize for any embarrassing thoughts you may have overheard before we were officially romantically involved." 

Satori stares at him before bursting into his loud laughter that Wakatoshi thinks would taste like cinnamon, if it had a flavor. 

Wakatoshi likes cinnamon. 

"I was joking," Satori cackles. "But I'm glad to know that you— _hahaha_ —also suffered!" 

"I don't think I would describe it as suffering," Wakatoshi says seriously. "You are a very pleasant topic of thought." 

Satori chokes on his next laugh, and Wakatoshi notices that he's turning faintly pink in the face. 

"Are you alright, Satori?" 

He coughs and splutters for a little while longer and then, as if nothing happened, he takes Wakatoshi's arm and steers him to the kitchen. 

"Just fine!" he lilts, sing-song. "Come on, I have a surprise for you!"

He's practically bouncing up and down as he orders Wakatoshi onto one of the stools by the counter and presents him with a box. 

"Ta-da!" 

"It is a very nice box, Satori." 

He says it seriously, and Satori laughs until his eyes squeeze shut. 

(If anyone were to ask, Wakatoshi would have to confess that he did it on purpose.) 

"What are you waiting for?" Satori sings. "Open it up, 'Toshi!" 

Wakatoshi admires the box for a few more seconds before he complies. It shimmers there in a tasteful shade of pastel wine. 

Finally, because Satori is chanting _openitopenitopenitpleeeeaseopenit_ , he lifts the lid and peers inside. 

"They're chocolates!" Satori cries gleefully. 

"I can tell," Wakatoshi says. "They're beautiful." 

Satori waves a hand dismissively, but he looks pleased. 

"Did you make these for _Le Maison?_ " Wakatoshi asks, and Satori nods, blushing for some reason. 

"They're for the limited spring collection," he mumbles. "Technically, they won't be in stores until the 30th, but…" 

"You brought me some," Wakatoshi smiles, feeling like a thousand flocculant baby birds are building a nest in his thoracic cavity. 

"You get to taste them first!" Satori cheers, like a whole team of high schoolers on their way to the national tournament. "But on one condition." 

"Oh? What's the condition?" Wakatoshi hopes, selfishly, that he'll say _you have to trade a kiss for each one,_ or something similarly silly and romantic. Satori is acting far too—what's the word again? ah, yes— _cute,_ this evening, and Wakatoshi isn't sure how much longer he'll be able to restrain himself. 

But Satori only bounces again and cries, "You have to guess what flavor each one is! It's a guessing game! Isn't that such a good idea! Genevieve at _l'épicerie_ suggested it." 

Wakatoshi chooses not to dwell on how charmed he is by Satori's proclivity for befriending little old French ladies. He has a more pressing matter to address, which is that his boyfriend is severely overestimating his talent at guessing. When he says so, though, Satori just smirks impishly. 

"That's what makes it fun!" 

"For you." 

"Exactly! I thought I'd catch your reactions on video, if that's okay! Amir wants to put it on his YouTube channel for publicity." 

"On his YouTube channel." 

"Just imagine how many more customers we'll draw in! _Name That Taste with Ushijima Wakatoshi, Star of Japan's National Men's Volleyball Team!_ You'll make us famous." 

"Satori, you work for one of the best-known artisan chocolatiers in the world." 

"What's that? You're agreeing to participate in my genius marketing ploy?" 

"Will your audience even be interested in the opinions of a professional volleyball player?"

"Of course they will! Who wouldn't be interested in you! Please say yes, please, Wakatoshi?" 

Wakatoshi has never been particularly good at resisting Satori's _Please Wakatoshi_ Face. It is not a skill he wishes to cultivate. 

And thus, he finds himself facing a camera (borrowed from Satori's friend Amir) and inspecting a chocolate orb with pretty silver polkadots on top. 

"Is this...garlic?"

Satori giggles. 

"Satori, is it? Did you put garlic in chocolate?" 

"I like to keep my audience on their toes. Is that your final answer?" 

"I suppose so." 

"Wrong! It's truffle." Satori giggles again. "A truffle-flavored truffle! Truffle squared!" 

Wakatoshi has to smile at that one. Satori just seems so proud of himself. 

He does not guess the next one, either, but, to be fair, he's never even tried a pumpkin seed, let alone _praline,_ whatever that is. (Satori laughs at him for one hundred and twenty-seven seconds. He counts.) 

His first victory comes at what is, in his opinion, rather a steep price—it's an infusion of citrus and chili pepper that has his eyes streaming and Satori guffawing uselessly instead of pouring him a glass of milk. 

He gets his revenge, quite by accident, when he tastes the next one, a smooth rhombus that he suspects is sprinkled in glitter. It's a very familiar flavor, and although he can't remember its proper name, he does know one thing: 

"This one tastes like you, Satori." 

Satori collapses on the kitchen floor. 

"Wakatoshi," he informs him weakly, "you can't just say things like that!" 

"But it's true." Wakatoshi frowns. "This is how your mouth tastes. When I kiss you." 

(He thought it might be necessary to specify, so that Amir's YouTube audience would not mistake him for a cannibal, or someone who makes a habit of tasting unsuspecting chocolatiers' mouths.) 

(Evidently, it was the wrong choice, as Satori remains sprawled on his floor for ten minutes, and when he finally reemerges, his face is nearly the same color as his buzzed hair and he demands a water break, during which Wakatoshi remembers what the flavor really is.) 

"It's sparkling cider, isn't it?" he asks, smug when Satori pouts. "The high-end variety that you pretend is champagne and drink out of the bottle with a straw." 

Satori squawks incoherently. Wakatoshi offers him some more water. It's what a good boyfriend should do, after all. 

He gives up on a briny concoction that Satori says is caviar white chocolate, although he does correctly identify the clove dusting on the chocolate-coated candied pear slice, but only because Hoshiumi Kourai is allergic to that particular spice, and once, during Wakatoshi's time with the Adlers, Miya Atsumu sent an entire box of ground cloves to their training gym in retaliation for a rather risque photo that Hoshiumi posted on his…Instagram? Facebook? Wakatoshi never was one to keep track of such frivolities. 

(The gym smelled of spices for three months. Hoshiumi had to train at an alternate location. Miya Atsumu's shampoo was mysteriously exchanged for glue sometime around the next Schweiden vs. MSBY match. No one spoke of it again.)

There are only two chocolates remaining in the box now. Wakatoshi selects one that has been carefully painted in swirling heliotrope. It's refreshingly sour, and, Wakatoshi thinks with great satisfaction, he knows exactly what it is. 

"Umeboshi," he states, and he does not need Satori to confirm his guess. 

He won't admit it (well, maybe later, when the camera is safely powered off and back in its case), but Satori was right—this game is fun. He might even say he's starting to get into it. 

The last lonely chocolate is a flat square. It has no pattern and no glitter, and it absolutely melts in his mouth. He has to close his eyes, thinking blissfully that he's lucky to have a boyfriend who is both dazzling and talented. 

However, he can't think of what this flavor could possibly be. He sits in quiet contemplation until Satori is bobbing up and down impatiently on the other side of the counter. 

"Wakatoshi," he complains, "have you figured it out yet?" 

"Regrettably, I have to give up," he says. "But this one is the most to my liking, I think. Your abilities are truly exquisite, Satori." 

For some reason, this seems to be the breaking point. Satori folds over himself, convulsing with irrepressible mirth. 

Wakatoshi does not understand. Is it customary in France to receive compliments in this manner? 

He is considering asking when Satori finally gets himself together, looks Wakatoshi directly in the eye, and says, without a trace of humor, 

"It's plain milk chocolate."

**Author's Note:**

> the video goes viral. tendou's limited collection sells out in record time. ushijima is showered in sparkling-cider-flavored kisses for his efforts. somewhere in argentina, one oikawa tooru is suddenly and inexplicably consumed by a burning desire never to go near chocolate again. 
> 
> if this suited your taste (hehe), please feel free to leave kudos & comments ;) i love to reply!


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